


Solarism

by nyoka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, Purgatory, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyoka/pseuds/nyoka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no real daytime in Purgatory; there’s just this eternal twilight, grey skies and muted colors, a white-washed world fading into itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solarism

**Author's Note:**

> For Cee, who asked for ‘Dean/Cas, smile.’ Takes place something after the purgatory scene from 8.02. Originally posted [here](http://nyokafic.tumblr.com/post/34727623041/fic-solarism-dean-cas).

~  


  
The road is empty for miles, a pale grey line against the blur of darker forest. It smells like death, but that’s Purgatory for you. Filth, and shit, and the rotting remains of dead things.

Like the rugaru in front of him. Gutted by Dean’s own home-made knife.

"Dean."

Dean turns around, moving toward the familiar voice holding his name. _Cas_.

"We should keep moving," Castiel says, voice thick and rough, his tired eyes going to the slain monster for a moment, before landing on Dean again.

Benny appears from behind a tree, his own weapon covered in some other creature’s insides. “Let’s go, boys.”

Dean nods, settles back into his own skin, and follows Cas and Benny deeper into the forest. It’s been days of this, walking, fighting, and fighting some more. They’re heading south through the trees, following the line of the river. Seems like they’ve been walking this way forever.

There’s no real daytime in Purgatory; there’s just this eternal twilight, grey skies and muted colors, a white-washed world fading into itself. Dean’s tired, worn boots falling heavy on the leafy mulch and moss of the forest floor. But his eyes still scan everything, listening for the sound of foreign breathing, watching the dance of shadows beyond the curve of the small hill in the distance.

They sleep only for a couple of hours at a time, Dean dozing against Castiel’s stiff side. Cas seems to be easing back into some sort of comfortable friendship with him, but it’s been slow-going, trying to get the angel to trust that this is the right course, that his place is by Dean’s side.

They’re both too tired to argue about it now though. Cas settles against the rough bark of a pine, and Dean settles against Cas. Benny takes first watch, and Dean watches his other companion move like a predator through the forest, circling their campsite, protective and strangely vigilant.

Dean curls his body up just enough to get his legs underneath him, trying to keep warm through the tattered remains of his jacket. He leans his head down, resting his cheek against Castiel’s shoulder. He feels tired, lethargic, mind dancing on the edge of sleep. It’s quiet now, although the trees of the forest always seem to whisper to each another, secrets and something more hidden in the darkness beyond.

"Rest, Dean," he hears Castiel say, the soft press of his lips against Dean’s temple.

Dean’s surprised when he feels Castiel’s arm come up to wrap around his shoulder, Castiel drawing Dean’s head down to his chest. This is the first time they’ve done this in Purgatory, gotten close in this way, allowed themselves anything that resembles this kind of comfort. They haven’t talked about the past at all; what they had together on Earth so long ago, what Castiel’s actions almost brought to an end.

But now Dean’s feeling the weight of that history, lightheaded over the warm press of Castiel’s body against his own, surprised at Cas letting his guard down even a little, letting Dean close.

"Cas?" Dean asks.

"Dean," Cas answers, but it’s half whisper and half plea, and there’s something there that Dean recognizes.

Dean pushes up, his face inches from Castiel’s own. The air that fills the space between them is charged, and for a moment Dean thinks maybe they shouldn’t do this here, not with the monsters lurking and the dangers ahead, not with the miles still separating them from home. But he can’t stop looking at Castiel’s face, at the dirt and the grime and the scruff, and the way his eyes shine through it all.

Cas exhales his name again. “Forgive me,” he adds, voice raw, and Dean laughs, sounding too broken and too tired, because he already did, a long time ago.

"Just come here," Dean whispers, pressing his face against the hollow of Castiel’s neck, exhaling a warm breath that clings to Castiel’s dirty skin.

Castiel stills for a moment, but then he’s moving quick as lightning, standing up and pulling Dean to his feet. He presses his mouth, slick and hot, over Dean’s own. Dean thinks about all the things he whispered to Cas at night when he prayed. The confessions he could only make when he thought there was no hope left. He thinks about how Cas heard every single desperate damning word.

Castiel’s teeth pull at Dean’s bottom lip, frenzied tugs that send fire down Dean’s body. Their tongues meet and tangle, and Dean feels like he’s breaking apart, fighting for survival in all the ways he’s trained his body to do in Purgatory. Dean surges up, locking his arms around Castiel’s neck, and Cas presses back just as hard, fitting them flush together against the tree, chests and hips pressed tight.

Dean licks into Castiel’s mouth, sweeping his tongue and thrusting it deep, before trailing his mouth along Castiel’s chin, the brush of stubble like fire against his lips. Cas groans, but there’s a softness to him now, the coiled tension eased out of his shoulders.

Dean’s struggling to breath, to find the right words to speak, but they’re lost around the slide of Castiel’s mouth, his slick lips and warm tongue, and in the press of Castiel’s hands against Dean’s hips. They let their mouths move together for long moments, a soft remembering of the times when this was the only comfort they had to give each other. There are no words, but Dean thinks their actions speak in ways nothing else ever could.

Cas pulls away first, runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, and Dean’s heart beats just a little bit faster. He closes his eyes, tries to slow his rushing blood, rests his head back against the tree. Castiel slides his long fingers to Dean’s mouth, trails them across his tender lips, following the curve of Dean’s smile.


End file.
